


Disturbia

by asmaanixx



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Gangs, M/M, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmaanixx/pseuds/asmaanixx
Summary: Lance doesn’t know why his heart is pounding so loudly nor as to why he’s giggling so nervously. Keith is just a roommate, another human being who would be living with him, not some sort of puppy. But he can’t shake off that giddy feeling that is swelling up inside of him. It feels like it’s been forever since Lance has felt like this. The last time he felt anything remotely similar was a few summers ago when he and his family had gone on vacation back home to Cuba. Everything had been so new at the time, so full of promise. The excitement of the unknown had simply been electrifying but yet there was a warm, safe comfort that was lying underneath it all. He’s not sure why he’s attributing the same feeling to being roommates with Keith but it was here now and it had settled itself well underneath his skin.The doorbell rang.Lance’s heart raced even wilder.A pair of footsteps ran to the front door.A door swung open.“Hey!” A warm, enthusiastic greeting was shared by a grand, pearly smile.Dread, anxiety and panic arose in one.“Hi?"





	1. hold on tight, wait for tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This may be my second multi-chapter fic but I consider it to be my first proper one since I have spent many days in writing and revising it. So any kudos/comments/criticisms would be GREATLY appreciated. <3
> 
> 2\. While the geographical location may be fictional, it does have Canadian elements to it (like the 911 call), since that is what I am most familiar with.

Not many people knew this about him, but Lance was an absolutely fantastic cook. Of course his skills were nowhere near as close to his best friend Hunk's, but he considered himself to be a close second. After his mother of course. Probably after Hunk’s father too. And their grandparents? The point was Lance can cook _amazingly_.

More than savory dishes though, Lance loved baking. He knew the standard cakes, cupcakes, muffins, and cookies down to a pat. Over the last Boxing Week sale, his dad had bought a bread-making machine and needless to say, they both became _obsessed_ with baking their own bread. Sweetened, savory, regular white or whole wheat, poppy-seed, minced onion, even cranberry-pecan. (Though that one may have been a bit of a failure at first, with practice it had quickly earned the spot of becoming a family favorite.)

He had felt so proud when he had been selected to make the grand dessert for their annual picnic. He had baked a large three-tiered chocolate cake completed with buttercream frosting and topped off with freshly grown strawberries. Everyone had _oohed_ and _aahed_ and Lance’s smile couldn’t have been brighter. Hunk too, had expressed his pride by giving him a hug so tight, Lance’s arms had hurt the next day. Alas, the Fuentes-Castilla family was only able to admire the cake before the Terror Twins had started their ruckus for the hour and had managed to topple the cake, and all of Lance’s hard work, straight to the ground. If anyone had seen Lance crying into his father’s arms, seated on a particular wooden bench situated before a small pond, they didn’t mention a single word of it.

Lance sighed.

He missed them. A _lot._

The Terror Twins not so much but everyone else? _Immensely._ Especially his mom. He didn’t particularly like the idea of living hours away from her, even though it had initially been his idea to do so for him to grow his own wings so to speak. Being accepted to a university almost two hours away from his parents’ home had helped cement the decision even further. It had been tough in the beginning, getting adjusted to the university life and paying his own rent and bills, but Lance liked to believe that after three years he had learned how to live on his own quite decently.

Especially considering the horrible incident he had to experience last year.

Lance sighed. _Again_.

_Gosh, I haven’t even hit fifty yet and I’m already breathing like a geezer_.

Standing before the spice rack, Lance contemplated as to whether or not he really needed ground cumin or cinnamon. Hunk had suggested that he plan meals a week ahead but Lance more often than not found himself spending most of his time in Hunk’s kitchen anyways. If he wasn’t sharing meals, then he would be taste-testing whatever new experimental dish Hunk was trying for the day. Not to mention, Lance had been given free access to Hunk’s fridge and pantry so why wouldn’t Lance take full advantage of that?

_Because Mama will kick my ass, that’s why._

So here Lance was, trying to decide between two spices that he wasn’t even sure that he might need now, or ever.

_Fuck, why are they so god damn expensive?_

Lance complained staring at the small bottle of ground cumin in his hand that was apparently worth four dollars _plus_ taxes.  He wondered if there were rare minerals hidden inside. With yet again another sigh, he put the bottle of ground cumin along with a bottle of paprika in his basket. If he needed cinnamon, he would just get it from Hunk.

As he started to walk towards the dairy section, he pulled out the grocery list he had made from home to cross out the items he had just picked up.

_Spices done, now I just need to pick up milk and cream and I can be on my way- ufh!_

Lance squeaked as he crashed into a metal cart that was coming around the corner.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” Lance admonished, rubbing his arm.

"Why don't you watch where you're going instead of shoving your face down into your phone?" The other man rudely retorted, their voice muffled behind a maroon bandana covering their mouth.

"Excuse me!" Lance gasped, feeling highly offended. "First of all, this is a piece of paper you knuckle-head, and secondly, why don't you watch where you're going! Unless between us two I'm the only who has been graced with beautiful eyes."

The man scoffed. "Beautiful eyes that may as well be blind if they can't see they're about to crash into a moving object." Gasping, Lance had opened his mouth to give another retort when the man ordered, "Now move aside loser. I don't have time to waste on people like you."

Lance jumped out of the way before he could be mowed down by the mad man.

_People like me? What does he mean by people like me?_ As a realization hit him, he gasped even louder. _Was he being **racist**! Oh, how dare he!_

With fury controlling his feet, Lance followed the general direction the man had walked in only to find the aisle completely empty, save for one empty metal cart.

_Where the hell did he go so fast?_ Lance wondered looking around. _Either way, he’s lucky he left. Otherwise I would have shown him!_

With anger still sitting on his nose, Lance finished his journey to the dairy section, grabbed his carton of milk and cream, and stomped to the front of the store.

“Hello, how was your day?” A blonde teenage boy with disgustingly glossy hair asked in a monotone voice.

Not bothering to grace the boy with a reply, Lance unloaded his items onto the conveyor belt.

_That bloody ignorant fool. **He** was the one who crashed into **me** first and **I’m** the one whom he yells at?_

Lance finished the transaction as quickly as he could, and whipped the cashier a quick goodbye.

Passing through the automatic doors, Lance fished out his phone from his pocket and sent Hunk a quick voice note through WhatsApp.

"So my night just went from being as good as my abuela's tamales to learning I'm being accused of murdering a cat. So, if you can, would you please set up a marathon or something? I could really use a pick me up. Thanks bud!"

Lance ended the call just as he reached his car. Hearing a distant crash, Lance froze. He scanned the nearly empty parking lot, and didn’t see a single sign of life.

_This is the **last** time I go shopping by myself at night._

Not wanting to stick around any longer than he needed to, Lance quickly put away his groceries in the trunk, and scanned the backseats before he seated himself inside. Locking the doors, he hurriedly put on his seat belt and began reversing his car.

If he had checked his rearview mirrors, Lance would have seen the vehicle about to pass by him. But Lance didn’t check and that is why he had to slam down on the brakes as a loud horn blared behind him.

_What the ever fucking little!_

Sticking his head out of his window, Lance shouted, “Watch where you’re going you fucking asshole!”

The man, seated on his red bike, looked at Lance through his helmet for a brief moment before he flipped him the finger and rode off.

Lance couldn’t explain what he was feeling. Rage was definitely at the top of the list but fear, panic and a general sense of being overwhelmed were also there.

_I have to get out of here._

This time as he reversed, he called Hunk to give him some company. It was only once he was at the traffic lights that Lance recognized the familiarity of the biker’s jacket.

_Was that the same fucking asshole from the store? The **nerve** on him!_

For rest of the drive home, Lance unleashed all the curses he had ever learnt in his life onto ‘Mr. Rude’. By the time he stepped into his flat, Lance found he simply didn’t know enough curses to fill his satisfaction.

_____________________

"I'm telling you Hunk, this guy was a number one jackass. Just _thinking_ about him is making my blood boil." Lance ranted as he walked into Hunk's flat.

"Hello to you too, neighbor." Hunk answered sarcastically, as he locked the door.

"I mean, can you imagine.” Lance carried on ignoring his friend’s comment with a wave of his arm. “You’re having an absolutely glorious day. It’s bright and sunny, rainbows gracing the sky and your shitty bitch of a boss complimented you on a job well done. But then, from out of _nowhere_ this **asshole** comes along, walks up to you and says, ‘I hate puppies.’” Lance paused for dramatic effect, while Hunk took a sip of his lemonade.

It was only when he realized that Lance was actually expecting an answer that Hunk said, “Oh, that’s horrible. I mean, who doesn’t like puppies?”

“Right!” Lance exclaimed with his arms wide open. “You know who doesn’t like them? Psychopaths. That’s who.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Hunk interrupted.

“And you know why,” Lance carried on, bulldozing through Hunk’s interruption, “because they have no soul! And that jackass doesn’t have one either.”

“Lance you’re just overreacting.” Hunk consoled, walking over to his friend. “He was just your regular run-of-the-mill asshole who’s now gone from your life. Stop giving him so much attention and ruining the good vibe of my humble abode."

"Fine." Lance acquiesced with a cross of his arms. "But if I ever see him again, I'm gonna give him a solid punch in the face."

"Whatever you want buddy." Hunk rolled his eyes. "Now, you want buttered popcorn or spicy?" He asked, poking Lance on the arm with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Ooohh, spicy!" Lance answered gleefully, running over to Hunk's pantry while he set up the movie.

"So did you get a response for the ad yet?" Hunk asked, pulling out a disc from the DVD cover.

"Yup! Even got the advance for the next three months." Lance said with a wide grin, pouring out the popcorn out of its bag into a big blue and yellow striped bowl.

Hunk whistled. "Wow. Did you meet them yet?"

"No," Lance said as he plopped onto the couch. "He's supposed to be coming in tomorrow."

"What's his name?"

"You’re asking an awful lot of questions. You interested?" Lance asked with a smirk and a nudge to his arm.

"Umm… hell yeah, I'm interested! You know full well how expensive it is to live here and this mystery man comes along to pay you _three months’_ worth of rent? I'm more than interested. I'm ready to have his babies interested."

Lance laughed. "His name is Keith. Is apparently new to the city, and is looking for a place to crash while he finds himself a new job.”

"’Place to crash’? I’m telling you Lance, this guy is _loaded_. Did you check to see if he has a criminal record?” Hunk asked coming to sit back down from turning off the lights.

"Non-existent." Lance answered, turning up the volume.

"Wouldn't it be funny if you ended up inviting a real serial killer to be your roommate?" Hunk teased laughingly, nudging Lance by the shoulder.

Lance weakly chuckled. "Yeah. That would, that would be hilarious."

Slowly munching on his kernels, Lance slouched further down the couch as the title card for _Scream_ splashed across the screen. He tried his best to pay attention to the film, but half his mind was mulling over Hunk’s words.

_What if I did invite a murderer?_

After all he had only put up the advertisement for around a week before he answered a response. He wondered if he had been too hasty in accepting the offer. The proffered amount had been very enticing and given the fact his minimum tuition deadline had been nearing soon, desperation may have played a huge role in the quick acceptance. His friends had wisely advised him to find a cheaper location nearer to the university, but Lance had insisted on wanting to remain in this building. He wasn’t paying all those dollars for the fancy pool, or the private gym. He was doing it for the highly rated security system within and around the building. If paying a few extra dollars meant he could get a decent night’s sleep and the comfort of feeling safe within his own home, then he would gladly do so.

Besides, he had already corresponded with Keith through numerous emails and text messages. Heck, Lance had even gone as far as getting a police background check done and everything had come out as being squeaky clean. Still, now that Hunk had put the murderous nugget in his mind, Lance couldn’t help but question his decision.

_I can’t just kick the guy out, I already deposited his money. Besides, what excuse do I use to send him away? He hasn’t even lived with me for me to find him annoying or whatever. If I do tell him to leave, would that be the same as me stealing from him? Or at the very least, be considered committing a fraud?_

Lance groaned as he sunk even further.

_By legal grounds, Keith has the right to lodge with me for the three months he paid for. But if he were to leave on his own…_

“You okay there bud?” Hunk asked, his eyes not moving from the television screen.

Lance let out a sound that was a mixture of a whine and cat’s mewling.

Lance was not fine. Lance was not anywhere near being fine.

“You do know I was just joking about the whole serial killer thing. Keith is going to be absolutely fine.” Hunk said, trying to reassure his friend.

“Hmm.”

For the remainder of the film, Lance tried his best to believe in Hunk’s words.

_____________________

**_New Roomie (2:43 p.m.):_ **

_Hey there Lance, wanted to give you a quick heads up that I might be running a little late._

**_You (2:45 p.m.):_ **

_Okay, cool. Can I get an idea around when? I’m actually outside right now…_

**_New Roomie (2:46 p.m.):_ **

_Oh, umm… around 5?? It shouldn’t really take me longer than that._

**_You (2:47 p.m.):_ **

_That sounds good to me. Can’t wait to finally meet you! :)_

**_New Roomie (2:48 p.m.):_ **

_Same! Alright, catch you later then!_

Lance rested his phone upon the small wooden table, and picked up his mug of hot and steaming latte. He blew on it gently, before taking a sip.

_Now **that** is a good cup of coffee._

He normally didn’t like being at _The Brew_ given the fact he had spent most of his days standing on the other side of the counter, dealing with the rowdy customers. Their frantic need to be practically injected with caffeine had usually left Lance in a sour mood. Now, Lance considered himself to be a swell guy. A real people’s person as they say. But when students started swearing and demanded for free drinks at seven o’clock in the fucking morning, his patience was well, non-existent. He tried to be upbeat and energetic as per the store’s policies, but honestly, being fake took up way too much energy for his liking. Needless to say he was more than grateful for being transferred over to the literary department of the shop. Now, instead of having to deal with hungry, cranky customers, Lance spent his hours helping students out at the writing centers or organizing and promoting the sales of books. It was certainly much more tamed than what he was used to, but Lance soon found he quite enjoyed the peace and stillness that came with the books. They were solid, sturdy and predictable. Everything that Lance needed to heal himself from the horrible incident of the past.

He took another sip and leaned back into the red leathered armchair. He was lucky to have found a spot in the quiet reading nook. Normally there was one anxious student or another who would be circling the area like a hungry vulture, desperately trying to catch up on some sleep or readings that they had put off to the last minute.

_Guess working here has some perks after all._

Lance mused as he took another sip.

“Aahh, bless your soul my good brother!” Pidge exclaimed as they walked into the little nook, their arms raised high and doing little mocking bows.

With a laugh, Lance greeted the little brunette with a tight hug.

“Hey Pidge, glad you could make it.”

“Dude, I wouldn’t miss out on being here for the _world!_ ” Their backpack, which had been dangling off of one shoulder, was now discarded to a corner. “Do you know that there is now an actual _sign-up_ sheet just to be seated here?”

“Really?” Lance asked, surprised with brows raised.

_How did I not know about this? I **work** here!_

“Oh yeah. Some wacky third year student started it last year when she couldn’t get a seat after three days in a row. She had made a huge commotion about it too. She was standing right there,” Pidge pointed at the small chalkboard that was featuring one of the specialty beverages of the day. (Today’s had been a _Snickerdoodle Hot Cocoa_. Lance could just smell the hints of cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla that would be drifting off of it.) “and she would stop anyone from coming in, asking them all sorts of bizarre questions like, ‘how often do you visit the nook?’ or ‘how much time do you spend during any one visit?’ I’m telling you, she was having some sort of meltdown or another.”

“Does the system even work?” Lance couldn’t possibly see how it would. It was after all just one of many reading spots located around the shop.

“Meh.” Pidge shrugged as they opened up a can of their Red Bull. “Some people use it, some don’t. It becomes really popular during exam seasons. Other times, like now, no one really cares. As a general rule no one really sticks around for longer than an hour.”

“Scared her ghost would be haunting the place?” Lance asked, very amused by ‘Mrs. Nook’.

“You bet.” They answered around a smile, before they took a sip of their energy drink. “Here comes Hunk.” They announced with a raise of their brows.

“You Lance, my man, are _the_ best!”

Lance hunched over in a grand bow, before gathering Hunk in a tight hug as well.

“I’ve just been told the infamous story by our one and only.” Lance said, waving his arm over to Pidge who was seated on a green circular mat.

“How did you not know? Don’t you like work here?”

“Cut me some slack. I only just transferred to the literary department.”

“Aahh, yes. How can we forget the harrowing days of Lance, the failed barista?” Pidge mused dramatically much to Lance’s annoyance.

“Hey! I was _not_ a failure. There were just… some… bad days… that’s all.”

“Bad days that lasted for three whole years?” They asked incredulously.

Lance couldn’t do much but stick his tongue at them childishly, which merely made them laugh.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab something to eat. Want anything?”

“Nope, I’m good.” Lance commented, picking up his mug once more.

“Pidgey, what about you?”

“My name is not Pidgey!” They whined. Hunk simply rolled his eyes and tapped his foot once, indicating he was still waiting for an answer. “What soups do they have today?”

“Minestrone, chicken noodle and broccoli.” Lance answered, remembering the steamy warmth as he had passed by the giant pots in display.

“Nahh. What about sandwiches? Do they have turkey?”

“Always.”

“Actually, I don’t want turkey. Do they have tuna? Is tuna even good? I mean, I know the nutritional value of it, but taste wise. Is it any good or does it have too much of a fishy taste?”

Hunk sighed, pressing a thumb and forefinger along the bridge of his nose.

“On second thought, I don’t want tuna. Maybe I should just get a salad. Get all those lean, mean, and green leafy vegetables in me. I saw something about a cucumber and avocado salad? Do they have that? Have you tried a cucumber-avocado salad before? I haven’t. Don’t really think I want to. I did try avocado before and it was bland as shit. Not that I know what shit tastes like of course.”

Lance raised his brows, silently watching Pidge carry on with their indecisive menu choices, not even realizing that Hunk had already left.

_I wonder if I can take the Red Bull away from them without them realizing. I’ll have to be really sneaky though…_

Lance took a sip without taking his eyes off the still speaking brunette.

_Nahh, better not risk it. They may have a small body but their attacks are as vicious as a viper._

Lance winced as he felt a phantom pain in his right leg.

_Wouldn’t want a repeat of **that** again._

With half an ear on Pidge’s rambling, Lance looked out the circular window. Lance lovingly called it _The Hobbit Hole_ not only due to its circular shape but for the intricate patterns that had been crafted for the frame. With the nook being surrounded by several shelves of books, and antiquated wall lamps, it almost felt like they were in a different world. Like they weren’t situated in a coffee/book shop but rather in someone’s humble home on a faraway Earth.

A fond smile graced Lance’s lips. He was at peace right now, a feeling that eluded him at times in the chaos of the outside world.

_Now I know why people love it here so much. It truly is magical_.

Lance blinked as he saw a familiar biker roll up on the opposite street. The magical stupor now broken, Lance became highly alert in his real world.

_What is he doing here?_

Not that it’s any of his business of course, but the shop that the biker had strolled into wasn’t particularly that well known for its good character. He, himself, had been saved from being duped by the owner, all thanks to Pidge. It had been a few years ago, during one of his broke days, that feeling really desperate, Lance had gone to the pawn shop in the hopes of getting some easy cash for a watch he had owned. Pidge who had needed to get some supplies of their own had gone along with Lance and had at once picked up on what the seedy little man had tried to do. Needless to say, Lance never walked into that shop ever again.

Lance wondered if Mr. Rude knew what he was walking into.

_Maybe he works with them._

“Earth to Lance!” Pidge called out, waving their hand in front of Lance’s face. “Yoohoo.” Lance startled in his seat. “Where did you go?”

“Pidge, do you know about Mr. Rude?”

With bent brows, they answered, “No, I don’t think so. Who’s that?”

“Long story short, I met an asshole yesterday while grocery shopping and that same asshole just walked into the pawn shop over there.” Lance explained, pointing at the little red-bannered building.

“And we care because….?” They trailed, shaking their head slightly as if they were missing a very obvious point.

“Because… he’s an asshole!” Lance provided quite pathetically. “And he’s probably in cahoots with another asshole.”

Pidge took a deep sigh, mumbling something under their breath.

“What was that?” Lance asked, still peering intently out the window.

“I said, wanna go see what they’re up to?” They amended, not wanting to voice out their previous statement out loud.

“And increase the chances of me getting shot? No thank you.” That didn’t prevent Lance from scooting further towards the edge of his chair.

“Fine, you can stay here and I’ll go check it out. Any distinctive features that you remember?” They asked taking long gulps out of their drink.

“Umm… not really. A bandana? It was covering most of his face.” Lance was surprised by how little he remembered about Mr. Rude despite him occupying a large portion of his thoughts. Then again, Lance was more focused on how he had felt than checking out the irritant for his aesthetic features. “Wears a jacket though. Leather, I believe.”

“How clichéd and boring.” Pidge commented, standing up straight. “Call 911 if you see me running out while crying murder.”

“Wait, you’re actually going?” Lance exclaimed, watching his little friend dash out of the nook.

His shoulders slumped and a small bubble of anxiety began to form in the back of his mind.

_Stay safe Pidge_.

He had to remain vigilant now, Lance noted as he continued his stake out.

It hadn’t been a minute long before Hunk arrived, his arms carrying a small wicker basket full of assorted mini-muffins and a tall mug of steaming hot cocoa.

“Where did Pidge go?” He asked, placing his meal down on the table and stepping closer to see what had captivated Lance’s attention so acutely.

“To the pawn shop.” Lance commented as Pidge gave a quick thumbs up before entering through the door.

“Why?”

“Remember the biker from yesterday?” Hunk nodded. “He went in there.” Lance revealed, slightly thrusting his chin in the shop’s direction.

“And Pidge went after him?”

“Yup.”

“Because…” Hunk trailed off not really understanding the connection between Pidge and the mystery biker.

“Because Pidge is high on Red Bull.” Lance spoke nonchalantly as if that was a more than an adequate reason for chasing after a complete stranger.

“That… actually makes sense.” Hunk replied, quite surprised by that little revelation. “Anyways, I’m gonna get started on my homework. Let me know if something interesting happens.” The large boy sank back into a yellow bean bag, sighing in relief at the mere comfort that small action provided.

“Will do.” Lance answered with a smirk. “You look mighty comfortable there.”

“That’s because I am.” Hunk agreed, stretching his legs out even more. “Wanna join me?” He asked with a waggle of his brows.

“And if I do?” Lance teased with a grand smile.

“Arms are wide open.” Hunk commented, with an actual spread of his arms.

Lance laughed, his face beginning to hurt from the widely stretched grin. He loved having these flirting little quips with Hunk. There weren’t any secret hidden desires attached to them nor any room for ill-thinking upon knowing that Lance may not be romantically interested. Not that he would mind being in a relationship with Hunk, of course. He loved Hunk. Sometimes a bit too much for words and once upon a time he would have taken the initiative to actually ask Hunk out. But too much wrong had happened in Lance’s previous relationship and Hunk had stayed by his side like a solid rock, making sure Lance came out of it alright. By that time their relationship had reached a special space. A space that was filled with nothing but respect, and high admiration all wrapped with a ribbon of no judgment.

The constant compliments and flirting had become Hunk’s way of constantly reminding Lance that what had happened was not his fault. That he is deserving of having another shot at love and one failed relationship doesn’t mean that he is wrong when he had self-identified as being bisexual. Those few months had been a complete mess the size of a hurricane, but there were some vital truths and important lessons that had come out of it. Lance supposed, even failed relationships have their place in the world.

He sat up straight in his seat as the biker, with his trademark maroon bandana wrapped around his face, walked out of the store, with a brown paper bag in hand. With an eased swing of his legs, he sat down, placing his keys in the ignition slot. He had just been about to leave when he got interrupted by an incoming phone call. Lance scooted closer to the window as the biker briefly removed the object out of the paper bag before putting it hurriedly back in.

_Why take it out if you don’t want it to be seen?_

“Hunk, come here.” Lance beckoned with a wave of his hand. “It’s the biker.” Marking his page, Hunk put his textbook aside and crowded beside Lance. “So he bought something.”

“Presumably.” Hunk amended.

“Presumably.” Lance repeated, carrying on with his initial thought. “And he sits down, is about to leave when he gets a phone call.”

“The one he’s still on.”

“Yes, and then he pulls out whatever is in the bag, not all the way though. Just a little, almost as if he wanted to make sure that he really had it. Then he quickly puts it back as if he didn’t want anyone to see it.”

“Maybe he didn’t.”

“But then why take it out in public in the first place? If it is that important, why not have the conversation in a private place? Or why take out the object at all? Surely he can feel the outline of it within the package itself.” Lance pondered aloud.

“What if he wanted to be seen?” Hunk suggested. “Maybe he wanted someone to know that he has something of interest.”

“Like who?”

“You mean apart from you?” Hunk asked with a single raised brow making Lance flush red. “We’re not the only ones who can see the pawn shop. I can think of quite a few stores that have a direct line of sight. Not to mention the roofs. Or even satellite images.”

“You think he’s being followed?”

“Could be. If he truly is up to no good.” Hunk mused. “Truthfully, anyone who enters that shop is never good news.”

“There’s Pidge.” Lance announced, shifting in his seat and patting Hunk’s arm.

“I bet they know more about what’s going on.” Hunk said, walking around to the table to take a sip of his drink before it went cold.

“The phone call’s done.” Lance observed as Shady Biker pocketed the phone and parcel inside of his leather jacket and zipping it up.

Lance had expected him to drive away as he had previously intended but something had clearly changed his mind as he removed his keys.

_Maybe the phone call had something to do with it._

Lance felt a jolt of shock travel through his body when the biker turned around to look _directly_ at him. He didn’t look up or down the street or even around him for any lingering eyes. He just turned around and looked straight at him as if he _knew_ Lance was watching him.

With belated thinking, Lance looked away and slunk into the armchair.

“ _Shit._ ” He whispered harshly, as he attempted to cover the right side of his face with curled fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Hunk asked, his eyes scanning Lance’s anxious body.

“I think he saw me.” Lance whispered, making Hunk dart his eyes in the window’s direction even though he couldn’t see much of outside.

“Is he still there?”

“I don’t know.” Lance said, but Hunk was already on his feet to check for himself.

“He’s not there anymore.” Hunk announced letting a huge wave of relief wash over Lance.

“You guys won’t _believe_ what just happened!” Pidge spoke excitedly as they landed on the bean bag, letting it slink even further towards the floor. “Your guy? Totally shady.” They exclaimed, with bright eyes.

“How so?” Hunk asked, seating himself on the right armrest.

“So, I walk inside the shop, pretending to be just another customer and walk around to blend in, _completely_ forgetting that I already met the jackass who had tried to scam you before.” They pointed at Lance. “So they have their eyes on me obviously wondering if I’m going to chase away any more of their customers but I’m just in there thinking, look man, I don’t want no harm. I just want to make sure that you aren’t running an illegal business here with the asshole who messed up my friend’s night. Of course, I don’t say that out loud but I’m walking around in circles looking at all this useless junk. You know the usual, jewelry, rings, armor, swords and whatnot. But then there was this triangular robot thing in a case _way_ at the back which looked hella cool so I call this guy who works there, not the same guy that we spoke to of course. This guy was a total newbie, probably had no idea what his owner is up to, and I think _sweet!_ I can get lots of info off this dweeb. So I start asking him a lot of questions about the robot. How old it is, where it’s from, what are its functions, the specs, why is it in a _pawn shop_ of all places,”

“ _Pidge._ ” Hunk spoke a bit sternly, reminding them to get back on track.

“Right!” They exclaimed a bit sheepishly. “So then I start asking about the owner and this guy tells me that he doesn’t know too much but lately there have been a lot of weird guys coming in lately _just_ to speak to the owner. He figured one or two people because of old connections is fine but a whole _gang_ of them? That too, over the course of three days? That doesn’t look right from any angle. So the dweeb puts his smart pants on and has applied to some other places. Apparently that’s why he told me about it in the first place. He wants out before shit starts hitting the fan.”

“Does he know anything about the gang?” Lance asked, getting highly invested in Pidge’s story.

“Of course not. That’s why I called him a dweeb.”

“Who wears smart pants.” Hunk pointed out.

“Well, it’s a complete waste on him because he doesn’t know jack squat about what’s going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if he babbles his mouth to everyone who walks in there. I can see him getting fired soon.”

“He could just quit.” Lance muttered.

“Thank you!” Pidge exclaimed, with a slap to their thigh. Gesturing towards Lance, they continued, “ _Somebody_ who gets my point. If you don’t like a place, why stay? Just pack your stuff and get moving.”

“Okay forget about the dweeb. What about the biker? Did you find out what he was in there for?” Hunk asked, before Pidge went off on another tangent.

“Oh yeah. He was being super shady as well. Was talking in whispers, ducking his head like he didn’t want anyone to see him and all that good stuff. The guy he was talking to brought out _so_ many knives for him to see and I’m not joking when I say _a lot_. Like he was bringing out case after case, sheaths after sheaths and Shady Biker just kept rejecting them all.”

“He was looking for something specific.” Lance surmised.

“Yup. So the guy he was talking to goes off in the back somewhere and out pops the owner who asks the biker something and then they’re both headed off towards the back.”

“Just one thing?” Lance interrupted.

“Must have been a question of identification or something.” Hunk suggested.

“Maybe. So anyways, Shady Biker stays there for a while and I’m continuing to walk around with the dweeb who is practically stuck to me like a second hip now and I’m _this_ close,” Pidge brought their thumb and index finger close to show just how much, “to grabbing one of the swords and shoving it down his throat to put him out of his misery when Shady Biker comes back out. Only this time he’s walking funny. Almost like he couldn’t wait to get out of the place. I totally understood his hurry and was about to bolt out right on his heel but the fucking dweeb became desperate and tried to sell me all sorts of weird ass shit.”

With an amused laugh, Lance asked, “Well, did you?”

“No.” Pidge grumbled, crossing their arms. “But I did say I’m very interested in the robot. Can’t believe I’m saying this but I might actually go back for it.”

“I’m assuming a transaction of the blackmailing nature would be involved?” Hunk asked, making Lance chuckle.

“You bet.” Pidge winked.

“Speaking of bets, how much do you wanna wager that whatever was in that bag was a knife?” Lance asked, trying to remember if his brief glimpse of the object could suit that description.

“$50!” Pidge shouted, raising a hand. “I’ll throw in another $100 if it ends up being gang related.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “I’ll double what you have and raise it by another $100 if the gang ends up being Galra.”

“Galra?” Lance asked surprised. “Where are you getting that from?”

“Well, there’s been a lot of hush talks going around but rumor has it things aren’t looking too good for them. The police raided a few of their locations and busted a few drug deals. They’re small operations of course, set up independently so that they can’t be sourced back to Galra but the police strongly believe that they are linked somehow. Now, I’m assuming that Galra would want to regain their lost territory. Maybe that’s why they’re stocking up on weapons?”

“What does that have to do with our guy though?” Lance asked, feeling a dark sense of foreboding creep up on him.

“It might not. But it’s one possible theory. The owner’s meeting a _gang_ of people, he’s selling what appeared to be an illegal weapon? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been secretly supplying them.”

“That’s scary.” Lance spoke softly.

“That’s life.” Pidge spoke over a mouthful of mini-muffins.

“You wanna share that Pidgey?” Hunk asked, eyeing the very rapidly depleting wicker basket.

“Nope. I already shared too much.” They popped in a few more, before Hunk could swipe the rest.

As the two bickered over who gets to have rest of the baked goods, Lance pondered over the latest revelation. He knew there was crime in the city but he had never imagined it would be happening right under his nose. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected anything less given what had happened to him. But that had been an entirely different scenario. A little domestic abuse didn’t hold the same flame as a massive gang war.

He didn’t even want to think about all the possible casualties that could occur due to someone’s foolish mistake.

_____________________

**_You (8:03 p.m.):_ **

_Don’t want to sound intrusive, but where are you?? You said you would be here around 5 and it’s 8 now…_

Lance quickly set his phone aside to stop his dinner from burning. He needed some good comfort food after the heavy day he had and there was nothing better than a huge pot of ooey gooey mac and cheese. Of course, he had been hoping to sit down to dinner with his new roommate and just getting the chance to finally know the guy, but he had gone MIA since his afternoon text.

Lance inhaled deeply as he took in the aroma of his nearly cooked meal. He could practically _feel_ himself drooling at this point.

_Okay, if I don’t hear from him soon I’m just gonna eat this _whole thing by myself.__

__

__

Lance doesn’t know whether to rejoice or be dismayed when his phone pings to alert him of a new message.

**_New Roomie (8:08 p.m.):_ **

_Hey sorry Lance! I got caught up with some things. I’ll just be leaving in a few minutes._

_Have you eaten yet?_

**_You (8:10 p.m.):_ **

_No, but I am making dinner. It’s just about done._

_Want me to save you some?_

_**_New Roomie (8:11 p.m.):_ ** _

__

_You don’t mind?_

__

**_You (8:13 p.m.):_ **

__

_Not at all!_

__

**_New Roomie (8:14 p.m.):_ **

__

_Awesome!_

__

_Thank you **so** much! I owe you big time!!_

__

**_You (8:15 p.m.):_ **

__

_Haha, okay. I’ll be holding you to it._

__

**_New Roomie (8:15 p.m.):_ **

__

_:P_

_I’m heading home now._

_See you!_

Lance ended the conversation with a peace sign and tucked his phone away.

He gave the pot one more swirl and turned off the stove. Covering it up with a lid, Lance took his glass of wine and tucked himself onto his couch. He turned on the television and began browsing through the channels looking for something to watch. It was a daily routine for him, surfing through the channels, grumbling about nothing good being on before he switched over to Netflix. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just skip the earlier processes save for it being one of his annoying habits. (Annoying only because Pidge has complained about it so many times.)

Another ping, another message.

**_Tech Monster (8:22 p.m.):_ **

_Sooooo…. How’s Mr. Roommate??? ;)_

Lance chuckled.

**_You (8:22 p.m.):_ **

_Don’t know._

_Hasn’t shown up yet._

**_Tech Monster (8:23 p.m.):_ **

****

****

_:o_

_Why not??_

_Don’t tell me u scared him away already_

**_You (8:23 p.m.):_ **

_I didn’t??_

_He was just running late. Should be coming home soon._

**_Tech Monster (8:24 p.m.):_ **

_Does he have a key?_

**_You (8:24 p.m.):_ **

_Not yet. Will get him one tomorrow._

**_Tech Monster (8:24 p.m.)_ **

_Nice. Nice._

_Do u think u can skype/call me later? I need help w/ the astro hw._

**_You (8:25 p.m.):_ **

_Sure._

**_You (8:27 p.m.):_ **

_Anything in particular?_

**_Tech Monster (8:30 p.m.):_ **

_Yeah, the whole spacetime/gravity bit?_

**_You (8:30 p.m.):_ **

_Whole?_

_Pidge, did you even read the chapter?_

**_Tech Monster (8:31 p.m.):_ **

_:)_

**_You (8:31 p.m.):_ **

_:|_

**_Tech Monster (8:31 p.m.):_ **

_< 3_

**_You (8:31 p.m.):_ **

_-_-_

Seeing a new message from Keith, Lance switched chats.

**_New Roomie (8:32 p.m.):_ **

_So I’m here and I don’t know how to get in??_

**_You (8:32 p.m.):_ **

_Are you by the front?_

**_New Roomie (8:32 p.m.):_ **

_Yeah_

**_You (8:32 p.m.):_ **

_Dial in the buzzer code. It’s 6234._

**_New Roomie (8:33 p.m.):_ **

_Got in! Thanks. :)_

**_You (8:33 p.m.):_ **

_Np._

Lance doesn’t know why his heart is pounding so loudly nor as to why he’s giggling so nervously. Keith is just a roommate, another human being who would be living with him, not some sort of puppy. But he can’t shake off that giddy feeling that is swelling up inside of him. It feels like it’s been forever since Lance has felt like this. The last time he felt anything remotely similar was a few summers ago when he and his family had gone on vacation back home to Cuba. Everything had been so new at the time, so full of promise. The excitement of the unknown had simply been electrifying but yet there was a warm, safe comfort that was lying underneath it all. He’s not sure why he’s attributing the same feeling to being roommates with Keith but it was here now and it had settled itself well underneath his skin.

The doorbell rang.

Lance’s heart raced even wilder.

A pair of footsteps ran to the front door.

A door swung open.

“Hey!” A warm, enthusiastic greeting was shared by a grand, pearly smile.

Dread, anxiety and panic arose in one.

“Hi?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey!”

_Keith… is Shady Biker?_

A strong feeling of dread washed over Lance, firmly rooting him to the spot.

_No, how can that be? I checked him out… he can’t be… surely I would have recognized him last night._

“Hi?” 

“Umm...” Keith’s smile wavered and his eyes darted around timidly. “You are Lance, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Keith?” Gulping, he elaborated. “Your new roommate?”

“Of course you are.” Lance said with a disbelieving chuckle.

“Do you want to see some ID?” Lance’s eyes remained fixed on Keith’s movements as he reached towards the back of his pocket to take out his wallet.

Slowly, as if not to scare Lance away, he took out his driver’s license and held it out for Lance to inspect it. It took all of Lance’s courage to not groan out loud upon seeing it be legit.

He returned the card and asked, “You drive a motorcycle?”

“Umm, yeah?” Keith answered, as he silently put away his card. “Is that a problem?”

“No. You’ll have to ask Coran for a parking spot. He’s the super in charge.” Lance rubbed his arms nervously.

“Okay. So… can I come in now?” He asked shifting in his spot, and biting his bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Come in.” Lance stood by the door, holding it wide open.

_Did I just invite a murderer to my home?_

His hands itched to grab his phone and send out a S.O.S. to Hunk and Pidge but he stopped himself. Keith didn’t give him any reason to suspect he is Shady Biker after all. If Lance continued acting the way he is now, and it turned out Keith was innocent all along… well then, Lance would be the asshole and he didn’t want that. From the correspondences that he had with Keith thus far, he really liked the guy. He was nice, sweet and really understanding. Nothing like the seedy little asshole that he had the misfortune of knowing from afar.

“Lance, are you okay? You seem a bit-“

“I’m hungry.” Lance interrupted in a deadpan voice. “Do you want to wash up first or something or do you want to eat right away?” He pointed towards the kitchen vaguely.

It was a coward’s way out, but Lance hoped he could use the distraction to gather his wits together for at least a little while. All he had to do was pass through dinner with Keith in one piece. Then, he can talk to Hunk and Pidge and sort through all the new horse shit that had just been dumped in front of his door.

“Oh, um, I would like to wash up first. My room will be...” He trailed off, his wide eyes looking at Lance expectantly.

“That’s your room.” Lance said, pointing at the closed door behind Keith. “I may have left a few books here or there. I couldn’t find space in my own room. If they’re bothersome, I can take them off your hands.

“No, that’ll be fine.” Keith dismissed with a smile.

He picked up his red suitcase and started making his way to the door. He may be a secret serial killer, but that didn’t stop Lance from displaying the childhood manners that had been instilled in him. With quick strides, he ran over to Keith’s new room and held the door open.

“You can start making yourself feel comfortable and I can get dinner ready.”

“Okay, thanks again for saving me some.”

With a tight smile, Lance answered, “No problem.” Remembering, he added, “Oh, and the bathroom is over there.” He pointed towards the area that was located towards the right of Keith’s room. “If you need any help in figuring anything out, then just give me a shout.”

“Okay. Thanks once again.”

With a nod and smile, Lance left Keith alone to his ministrations. He let out a huge sigh and felt that same uneasy feeling gurgle in the bottom of his stomach. After making sure there were no strangers lurking about in the hallway, Lance fastened the keychain and locked the two deadbolts. Pulling out his cellphone, he sent out a quick message to the group chat that held both Hunk and Pidge.

**_You (8:57 p.m.):_ **

_Guys, there’s a problem._

_Mr. Roommate is Shady Biker._

 

He swallowed down the remains of his wine and filled up another glass.

_What do I do if he is Shady Biker? Do I let him know that I know him? What if **he** thinks **I’m** stalking **him**? Oh gosh…_

He swallowed down the next glass with two huge gulps.

 

**_Tech Monster (9:00 p.m.):_ **

_Wait, back up. Wat do u mena he’s shady biker/??_

_Did he say he is??_

**_You (9:01 p.m.):_** ****

_No?_

_He looks like hikm._

_*him_

**_Chunky Monkey (9:01 p.m.):_ **

_Lance, is this an SOS?_

**_You (9:01 p.m.):_** ****  

_No. Nothing’s happened._

**_Tech Monster (9:02 p.m.):_ **

_Yet._

**_You (9:02 p.m.):_**  

_:_ _(_

**_Chunky Monkey (9:03 p.m.):_ **

_Do you want me to come over?_

**_You (9:03 p.m.):_ **  

_Aren’t you at work?_

**_Tech Monster (9:03 p.m.):_**

_See if u can find out about the knife._

**_Chunky Monkey (9:04 p.m.):_ **

_Yeah, but I can always fake an injury._

**_You (9:04 p.m.):_ **  

_Pidge, no! I’m not gonna go up to my roommate, (who might be a secret serial killer), and ask if I can see his knife collection._

_If anything, **I’ll** be the weird one._

**_Tech Monster (9:05 p.m.):_ **

_Maybe he’ll try to intiate u._

**_You (9:05 p.m.):_** ****  

_That’s okay Hunk. You don’t nee dto come ohome early. I think I’ll be fine._

_Pidge, remind me again why you’re my friend?_

**_Tech Monster (9:06 p.m.):_ **

_Because I’m your backbone_

_& help u get thru shit u wouldn’t dream of otherwise_

_Because I’m awesome B|_

**_You (9:07 p.m.):_ **  

_No you ain’t_

**_Tech Monster (9:07 p.m.):_ **

_:@_

**_You (9:07 p.m.):_**  

_;)_

**_Chunky Monkey (9:08 p.m.):_ **

_Haven’t you talked to him before??_

**“** Hey Lance, I’m gonna go take a quick shower.” Keith shouted as he passed by the kitchen.

“Okay!” He yelled over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the virtual conversation.

 

**_You (9:09p.m.):_** ****

_Yeah, but that was just through emails and texting_

_I never actually met the guy_

**_Chunky Monkey (9:11 p.m.):_ **

_No phone calls either?_

**_You (9:11 p.m.):_**  

_No_

**_Chunky Monkey (9:12 p.m.):_ **

_Did you even know what he looked like before you signed him on??_

 

**_Tech Monster (9:12 p.m.):_ **

_Of course not_

_Lance lives in the stone age where the onlhy mode of communication is_

**_You (9:13 p.m.):_  **

_Of course I did!_

_I did a police check on him remember?_

**_Tech Monster (9:13 p.m.):_ **

_By blood_

**_You (9:13 p.m.):_**

_^^ ??_

**_Tech Monster (9:14 p.m.):_ **

_If u did a bio check wat r u worried about??_

_Just chillax_

**_You (9:16 p.m.):_  **

_But the pawn shop…_

**_Chunky Monster (9:16 p.m.):_ **

_It was all guessing lance_

_There’s no proof that your roomie is involved with galra_

_Don’t get into a panic over nothing_

_Lance??_

**_You (9:20 p.m.):_ **

**** _Hmm…_

**_Tech Monster (9:21 p.m.):_ **

_Do u want me to do my check on him?_

 

**_Chunky Monkey (9:24 p.m.):_ **

_Pidgeon, no._

_You could get in a lot of trouble._

 

**_Tech Monster (9:25 p.m.):_ **

_It’s not ur call to make hunk_

_Not to be rude or anything_

_If it makes him feel better then I have no prob in doing it_

**_You (9:26 p.m.):_** ****

_No hunk’s right_

_I don’t want to risk you getting in trouble over nothing_

_And it’s like you said, I already did the bio check and he came clean. So there’s no point in worrying right?_

 

**_Tech Monster (9:27 p.m.):_ **

_Exactly._

_If you still feel paranoid then shoot me a text & I’ll take care of it_

**_You (9:27 p.m.):_ **

_Thanks Pidgeotto <3_

**_Tech Monster (9:27 p.m.):_ **

_It’s Pidge -_-_

 

“Hey,” Keith called out softly, leaning against the smooth black granite of the kitchen island. “Sorry that took so long.” He played with the sleeves of his long shirt, scrunching and fisting the edges of it tightly in his hands.

The earlier feeling of warmth that coursed through Lance’s body returned, starting its travel from his toes.

“No, that’s okay. I should be the one who’s sorry. I said, I’ll have dinner ready but I get busy on my phone.”

Tucking his phone in his pocket, Lance turned the stove on to heat up the food.

“Do you always have your face shoved down into your phone?”

A chill ran down Lance’s spine.

_Didn’t he say something like this yesterday?_

Slowly, mixing the mac and cheese, Lance spoke over his shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that I do. Can’t seem to stay away from it for too long.”

“Hmm.”

_Is he trying to provoke me? Should I bring up last night? No… that won’t be a good idea. It certainly wasn’t the better of first meetings._

Lance pulled out some bowls and spoons and began scooping out some of the grains.

“Do you want to watch something while we eat?” Lance asked.

“I was hoping we could just talk?” Lance turned off the stove and gave Keith his bowl. “It is after all our first night together.” Lance froze at the comment, his brows raised, and a flush of pink floating to his cheeks. It took a few seconds for Keith to catch up as to why Lance was still holding onto the bowl. “As roommates.” Keith amended with a flush of his own cheeks. “First night together as roommates.”

“O-Of course.” Lance stammered, his brain trying to reactivate itself. He abruptly pulled his hand back and looked for his glass of wine. “Do you want a drink?”

“Uhh, no, I’ll pass. I have to get up early tomorrow and I’m _horrible_ with hangovers.” He revealed as if he was letting Lance in on a little secret.

“Let’s sit on the couch.” Lance directed as he carried his meal towards his former seat. He tucked himself in as Keith followed him. “So what are you up to for tomorrow? I thought you were new to the city.”

“I am. I was hoping to get some interviews done. _Holy shit!_ This is amazing!” Keith exclaimed, looking down at his bowl with a face that totally contradicted his compliment. “Are you sure you made this?” He chewed his food slowly, as if he’s not entirely sure as to what he just put in his mouth.

“Umm, yes? Just because you’re new doesn’t mean you can go around insulting all the hard work I put into this.” Lance spoke in dry humor.

“I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Keith’s eyes went round like a doe that has just been caught in a headlight. Clearly jokes were not his forte. “This is _really, **really**_ good. It’s like the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“It’s just mac and cheese.” Lance grumbled, his cheeks heating up.

He shifted his food around while Keith took in another huge mouthful.

“Is that what you were doing today?” Lance asked, hoping he wasn’t making himself too apparent.

“Hmm?” Keith looked up at him as he took in another spoonful.

“Interviews. Is that what you were doing?”

“Oh yeah.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

“You could have at least come home first. Did you really lug all that around with you?”

“Oh no, I left that with my friend.”

“Friend?” Lance wondered if this ‘friend’ happened to be a Galra.

“Yeah, I left it at their place while I went out.”

_That makes absolutely no sense. Ugghh, this guy couldn’t lie even if his life depended on it. He can’t possibly be working for an illegal gang._

“Will you be giving me my key?” Keith asked as he wiped his bowl clean.

“Coran. Anything you need outside of this flat is dealt by him.”

“Okay.” Keith looked a tad bit… _sad_ as he looked at his empty bowl.

“There’s more in the pot if you want some.” Lance revealed, eyeing Keith carefully for his reaction.

He swallowed and looked at him expectantly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve had it loads of time.” Keith had already bolted out of his seat and dashed towards the kitchen to get his refill. Lance reached for his wine glass and took a sip.

All things considered Keith wasn’t that bad. Lance wondered if his preconceived notions about him were affecting the way he was behaving around him. If Keith was a secret gang member, surely he would have been offered a place to stay by the leader. Better yet, he would have been kept under surveillance by other members to see if he truly was worthy of being a part of their gang. He wouldn’t have chosen to stay in a building that was renowned for their top security. Then, there was Keith’s behavior. He was cautious and a bit reserved but that wasn’t reflective of him having a nefarious side or anything. It was actually expected of him considering he’s new to Lance and the environment. If anything, Keith might be thinking _Lance_ is the shady one, who is trying to fatten him up with deliciously cooked meals for a ritual sacrifice later on.

_Way to go Lance_.

He took another long sip of his wine.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lance didn’t even realize when Keith sat back down beside him.

His bowl sitting limply in his hands, Lance replied, “Yeah, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh.” Keith lowered his spoon and twirled it around in his hand.

_Is he sad again? Is this what I have to do? Make puppy Keith happy from now on? Did I get a puppy instead of a serial killer? I wish I got a puppy instead of a serial killer._

He took another sip and felt his eyes droop. 

“Do you want to head back into your room?” Keith asked curiously, shifting slightly in his seat.

“Hmm? Yeah. I, I should do that.” Lance looked down at his half full bowl of mac and cheese. He _was_ supposed to be comforted and feeling better. Yet, somehow he has ended up making himself feel worse than ever.

He downed rest of the wine and tried his best to keep his eyes focused on a single object.

With a sigh, Keith got up from his seat. “Come on Lance.”

“Huh?” Lance swayed his heavy head around to locate the source of the voice.

“Come on. Get up.”

He felt a pair of arms hook underneath his and loop one of his arms around something. The next thing he remembered was moving as if he was on one of the conveyor belts at the airports. Remaining rooted to one spot and yet the world moved around him.

“This is your room?” The voice asked, stopping before a closed door.

“I think so.” Lance slurred, his eyes closing.

He heard a large exhale and the door swung open. Next, he saw stars. Shiny, glowing stars looking down at him from their infinite inky shroud.

“Aren’t they pretty?” He asked out loud, his arm feeling heavy as he tried to point towards them.

“Yes, they are. Now go to sleep.”

Lance pouted. They didn’t even bother to look at the stars. Lucky for them, Lance didn’t have the energy to argue or complain. He simply let his eyes close and mind drift away into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The following morning woke Lance up, with a pounding headache. The shrill shrieking emanating from the fire alarm did nothing to alleviate his already irritated mood. With a loud groan, Lance pulled away from his bed and went to the living room to shut the damn thing off.

_What the fuck?_

His living room, which he had been able to see as clear as day every morning, was now covered in a smog like atmosphere. Lance wrinkled his nose as the harsh smoky odor invaded his senses.

_No, no, no, no_.

As Lance quickly ran to open all the windows, he heard the sound of the fire extinguisher going off behind him. Turning off the alarm, Lance looked at the source of his troublesome morning - _Keith_. Lance isn’t sure what Keith read off his face, but the guilty embarrassment that informed his roommate’s posture told Lance that the message was received clearly – Lance, was _not_ impressed.

“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Lance asked, trying to keep his voice down.

“I,” Keith croaked, “I just wanted to thank you for last night.”

“By burning my house down?” He crossed his arms, his eyebrows shooting up to hide between his brown fringes.

“No, I wanted to make breakfast!” Keith clarified, switching the extinguisher to his other hand. “But… things didn’t go quite as planned.” He added weakly.

“Clearly.” Lance said with a roll of his head. “What the hell were you even trying to make?” He walked into the kitchen to inspect the burning mess that was now splattered all over his stove. “What is this?” He didn’t even try to hide the disgust he was feeling right now.

_What the fuck is this shit? Was he trying to poison me?_

“I was trying to make a grilled cheese.” Keith explained, vaguely pointing at the foamy black remains on the pan. 

With a sigh, Lance asked, “Have you ever cooked something before?”

“Do sandwiches count?” He inquired in a mumbling tone.

_You mean a type of a food where you can put basically anything and everything you want between two slices of bread? Sure, why not._

“Yeah.”

“Then, _sure_ I have!” Keith exclaimed in a saccharine tone that clearly belied his words.

“PB & J doesn’t count.” Lance deadpanned after having a pretty good sense of what Keith’s culinary skills are like.

It was almost sad to see Keith deflate like a balloon. “Then no. Not really.”

“Yeah, okay, here’s the deal,” Lance spoke, uncrossing his arms, and inhaling deeply, “You stay away from the kitchen. Like, far, _far_ away, alright. I’ll deal with the groceries and making the meals. If you want to make yourself useful, you can find something else to do. Like…” He shook his head slightly thinking of a random chore, “like the laundry. Or sweeping.”

“Yeah sure. I can do that.” Keith spoke, still a little disappointed with how badly he screwed up.

“I’m gonna go shower now. You go unpack or something. Just stay far away from this area.” Lance suggested, circling the entirety of the kitchen with his hands. “Okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry again Lance.”

Lance didn’t bother with a reply and strode back to his room, the floor already starting to freeze the pads of his feet.

Pulling a fresh set of clothes to wear, Lance sent a quick message to Hunk and Pidge.

**_You (6:23 a.m.):_**  

_Mr. Roommate is a fucking nightmare._

* * *

“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?” Hunk asked as he aggressively mixed the cookie dough.

“Of course not! Hunk, my flat was _literally_ on fire. The smoke was so thick I couldn’t even see my face.” Lance cried, throwing his arms in the air.

“Idiot, no one can unless they’re looking in a mirror. Or at an identical twin.” Hunk’s tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth as he mixed even faster.

“Why aren’t you using the electric mixer?” Lance asked looking at the absence of any and all electronic appliances.

“Can’t. Someone stole the blender last night. So all major appliances are under a strict lockdown. The prof thinks this is a great way to learn how to cook using ‘traditional’ methods.” Hunk explained, sliding the big bowl over to Lance for him to carry over.

“That sucks.” After a few minutes of mixing, he said, “You know who should be in this class? Keith. That little fucker wouldn’t know how to boil an egg even if his life depended on it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t. Some people just aren’t skilled like that.” Hunk defended, spraying the baking sheet with cooking oil.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to teach a serial killer how to cook.” Lance mumbled.

Hunk sighed. “Lance, we went over this.”

“I know, I know but, come on. You have to do admit, it’s kinda fishy.”

“I think that’s enough.” Hunk said, taking the bowl from Lance. As they began scooping some dough onto the sheet, Hunk asked, “Do you want me to come over and meet him?”

“Wouldn’t that be too weird?”

“Not unless you make it.”

Lance leaned over the kitchen sink, running his hands over the pouring water.

“I don’t know what to do Hunk.” Lance admitted, accepting the clean towel his friend offered. “I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Hunk’s shoulders drooped as if the weight of the world had been placed on them. “Hey, look at me.” He gently lifted Lance’s chin to face him, “Keith is not Sendak. He can’t hurt you the way he did.”

“How do you know?” Lance asked with a crumpled face.

“Because this time you’re in control. _You_ decide how close you want to get to Keith. You can choose to become his best friend or just an acquaintance. You can choose to live in a constant state of paranoia or start learning how to trust people again. Lance, look,” Hearing the oven beep, Hunk slid the cookie tray inside, “I know what you went through was absolutely horrible, but to think Keith would do the same isn’t fair on him. If you weren’t ready to have a roommate, then you shouldn’t have put out an advertisement for one.”

Lance crossed his arms, and hung his head, hoping that his heart that was trying to crawl up his throat would go back down.

“I try Hunk. I really do. In fact, I was so happy yesterday, before I saw him. It was the best feeling in the world but then it just turned so ugly.”

Leaning beside him, Hunk asked, “Why is that?”

Lance shrugged, his lips curling downwards with a shake of his head. “I don’t know. It was dizzying, the way I felt. One moment I was over the moon and the next I felt like gravity was working overtime just trying to pull me back down.” Staring up at the ceiling, he added, “If only I hadn’t met him earlier. If only I hadn’t seen him at the shop. Then _maybe_ I wouldn’t be so confused.”

After a few minutes of pondering, Hunk spoke. “Lance, in a few months we’re going to be graduating. Pidge, you and I, we won’t be the same. We’ll all go in our different directions and the safety net that you have created with us won’t be there anymore. Pidge won’t be there to hack into whoever or whatever you need at a moment’s notice. _I_ won’t be able to run down to your room at two in the morning just to bring you down from a panic attack. I’m not trying to scare you but I want you to start preparing yourself for the inevitable. Living your life being scared all the time is not a way to live.”

“But I just want to be ready.” Lance said, feeling the various cracks in his voice.

“Then be ready. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being prepared for the worst. It’s just…” Lance waved in the air exasperatedly, “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like, you being scared all the time is making you lose out on all the fun things in life. It’s preventing you from meeting all the wonderful people in the world. People who could very well become your best friends, or your second family. Or maybe even your significant other.” Hunk nudged with a playful smile. “I’m not saying throw all your worries aside. I’m just saying, give Keith a try before you throw him in the fire.”

Lance nodded as he mulled over Hunk’s words.

The oven beeped.

The cookies were ready. 

* * *

 Lance had just finished his doing the questionnaire for his astronomy homework when Keith came home.

He raised his brows and gave a smile to Keith’s whispered, “Hey.”

Keith gently closed the door with his heel and proceeded to walk towards the kitchen when he was reminded of Lance’s scolding in the morning. He retraced his steps and plummeted on the ground, kneeling beside Lance, and began unpacking food out of the paper bags.

“You bought dinner?” Lance asked, saving the document he had been making notes on, and then putting away his laptop.

“Yeah. I figured, since the kitchen is off limits, might as well.” Keith muttered, a red tinge dusted on his cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Lance said, getting up to shut the door securely.

The keychain fastened, the two deadbolts locked, Lance went to the fridge to grab some drinks and a pair of glasses.

“Yes, I did. And I’ll even pay for the damages caused to the stove.” Keith accepted the glasses and adjusted all the dishes.

“I don’t think it was that bad. Will probably just have to scrape all the soot off.” Lance said, reaching out for one of the cartons of food to inspect it. “If anything, I’ll get Hunk to look at it. He’s my best friend.” Lance added, looking intently at Keith. “And my neighbor. Lives just down the hall.”

“Oh, okay.” He didn’t seem surprised at all. Maybe a little intimidated but surely not because he felt guilty.

“What is this?” Lance asked, nudging a piece of meat with his plastic fork.

“That’s chili fish.” Keith revealed. “This one,” He opened the lid of another box, “Is chili chicken. And this,” He opened another box, “Is paneer Manchurian.” He clasped his hands and rested them against his knees, a pleased smile adorning his face. “I wasn’t sure what you ate, seafood, meat, or only veggies. So I got you everything.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile.

_Maybe Hunk was right. Maybe Keith isn’t all that bad._

The smile vanished as a more gruesome thought swirled in his head.

_Poison._

“Is it okay if I call Hunk over?” Lance asked abruptly, startling Keith. “It’s just that we have so much food and there’s only two of us. Doesn’t seem right to let it all go to waste. Besides, I think he was making dinner for us anyways. Wouldn’t want him to go to all that trouble for nothing right?”

Lance didn’t even bother to wait for a reply as he pulled out his phone and sent Hunk a quick message. 

**_You (8:14 p.m.):_ **

_Keith is poisoning me._

“Okay, sure.” Keith agreed, a little too lately as the message had already been delivered.

Barely a minute had passed before the doorbell rang and Lance leaped across the room to answer it.

“Hunk! My buddy, my pal, my savior.” He added the last bit in a whisper so that only Hunk could hear. He gave the larger man a big hug. “I missed you so much.”

“I literally saw you three hours ago.” Hunk said, not impressed.

Lifting his head to peer at him from his lashes, he said softly, “Distance only makes the heart grow fonder.”

Hunk rolled his eyes and removed Lance from his body.

“Hey, you must be Keith?” Hunk started, turning his focus to Lance’s roommate, whom Hunk hoped, would be a little more bearable.

“Yeah,” He rubbed his hands against the denim of his jeans and walked forward, shaking his hands with Hunk. “I’m the new roommate.” He looked over Hunk’s shoulder briefly at Lance who was once again bolting the door. “You must be Hunk.”

“The one and only.” Hunk smiled. “I see you’re making up for your follies.” He gestured towards the food.

“Yeah.” Keith admitted, embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his head. “It might not be much, but it’s something.”

“Oh it’s something alright.” Lance added as he stepped around Hunk to sit in his former seat.

He patted beside him so that Hunk could sit beside him. Hunk glanced over at Keith and saw him biting his lip, making sure not to make eye contact. Lance didn’t notice the stern look Hunk was throwing his way as he was too busy filling up his glass with the store bought smoothie.

“This smells familiar.” Hunk remarked, as he eyed the food. “It’s from _Wok of Asia_ , is it not?”

“Yeah!” Keith confirmed with a bright smile. Lance noticed the sparkle in Keith’s eye and felt a slight twinge of guilt in his own heart. “I haven’t eaten from there before but somebody recommended it to me. So…” He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Oh man, you’re gonna _love_ it!” Hunk enthused as he began picking out his plastic cutlery and napkins. Turning to Lance, he asked, “Where are the plates?”

“Oh, I’ll get them.”

“Rather than one box each, I prefer sharing the food.” Hunk explained to Keith as he kneeled beside the small table once more. “You know there’s plenty of room here.” Hunk scooted over to take Lance’s seat just to be met with his incredulous stare when he arrived with the plates. “Be nice.” Hunk mouthed as Keith took a seat by Hunk’s right.

“Fine.” Lance bit out as he gave the plates to Hunk and went to put his laptop away in his room.

“So Keith,” Hunk began as he piled food onto their plates. “I heard you were a mechanic?”

“Uh yeah.” Keith answered, accepting his plate with a gracious smile. “Part time.”

“So… what made you come here?” Hunk asked, handing Lance his plate just as he sat down by Hunk’s left.

“A job.”

“Oh, you got one? That was fast.” Lance remarked, looking intently at Keith.

“Uh, no.” Keith corrected, sifting through the food in his plate. “I’m still looking for one.”

“No luck on the interviews then?” Lance raised a brow, shifting in his seat so that he could see Hunk and Keith in his direct sight.

“No I wouldn’t say that. There was… promise of some good development.” Keith may have smiled and spoken with good intention but there was something about the tone in which it was spoken that threw Lance off. Almost like there was a double meaning behind it.

“What do you guys do for a living?” Keith asked, after swallowing a mouthful of rice and fish. “I know Lance is a student. Are you as well?” He asked Hunk.

“Yup. We’re both in the same year. If things go according to plan, we will be graduating this year.” Hunk squeezed Lance’s leg with a smile.

“Do you work as well? It can’t be easy living in a place like this.” Keith asked, his smile a little too sweet and forceful after his eyes averted from Hunk’s hand on Lance’s leg.

“Yeah. We both work down at _The Brew_.” Hunk revealed. “Have been now for almost three years.”

“ _The Brew…_ that’s the coffee shop down by Arus Drive right?”

“Yup.” Lance admitted, after swallowing his fish. “You been there?” He eyed him carefully, waiting to see if he would slip up.

“Yeah. I was down there yesterday. It was awfully quiet. Odd for a coffee shop but then seeing as it melts into a bookstore, I guess it makes sense.” He said over a mouthful of chicken. “Frankly, I liked that section the best. Especially this little spot called _The Nook_.” Lance froze. “It was quaint, a little magical. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Knowing that the question was directed solely for him, did nothing to alleviate the acute sense of panic that was rising at the back of Lance’s mind.

_Does he know? He has to, why else would he say something like that? Oh my god, what if he heard us when we were talking? What if he’s about to kill both Hunk and me? Right now, right here and then get Pidge whenever? No, did I just… no… no._

“Lance.” Hunk shook Lance’s leg a little roughly, shaking him out of his dreaded thoughts. “You okay there, buddy?”

Not trusting his voice to be loyal to him, Lance nodded.

The remainder of their meal went by silently for the most part. Save for Keith and Hunk’s small talks, and an occasional word from Lance here and there, not much happened. No one got poisoned, no bones were broken, no body died. Lance considered this to be a huge win in his book.

“Lance,” Hunk whispered as he stood by the door, “Keith seems like a really good guy. A little shy and nervous, but that’s expected considering he’s still new to us. Just, take it easy on him, would you?”

Exhaling, Lance nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Remember to take your meds today.” Hunk gave Lance a once over, knowing full well that the boy would not be getting an easy sleep tonight. 

* * *

Days turned into weeks, but the course of Lance’s nights remained the same. He tossed and turned in his bed, the fringes of his hair drenched in sweat while his shirt clung to him like second skin.

“No, no,” A repeated chant was muttered between whimpers and whispers, but it did nothing to quell the uneasiness that was sticking to his body like a leech.

_“Lance.”_

That horrifying voice returned to harass him.

_A cold, slithering hand wrapped itself around his neck and began pressing. Squeezing, and releasing, harder and harder. The pressure increasing, occurring in regular intervals._

_“That’s it. Just like that.” It whispered, slipping through his ear and nestling itself deep within his mind. Echoing and bouncing around like it was the only thing that will ever matter. “Just like that. Give it to me. Give me everything you’ve got Lance.”_

_He tried to push, to resist, to punch, kick, and slap, to do something, **anything** to get him away. But tears fell. His consciousness slipping in and out, all thoughts dissipated._

**_His_ ** _voice remained, the one sole constant._

_"That’s it Lance. That’s it. You’re so good to me Lance. So good.”_

_A hard press against his lips._

_All resistance failed._

_Lance went limp._


End file.
